


Shaping Flesh

by borlaaq



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Gen, The Masters will help anyone who’s trans for free, also my trans!candles headcanon makes a brief appearance, humans suck but the masters are cool, i got real emotional writing this oops?, you cannot change my mind sorry yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borlaaq/pseuds/borlaaq
Summary: You feel your face heat up. You have no idea how much Mr Hearts or any Masters of the Bazaar understand about humans. “Uh, yes. I want my, uh, breast tissue removed. All of it. And resculpted, if you could.”The bright lights under its hood narrow and you feel it’s smiling. “Top surgery?” It suggests.“Oh.” You hadn’t expected it to know such a casual term for it. “Yes.”
Relationships: Mr Hearts & Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	Shaping Flesh

The Neath has plenty of surgeons who will do anything for a price. Some even have credentials! You didn’t need to do much research, everyone had one name on their lips when you asked. 

“Ah, Mr Hearts can work wonders with the flesh. If you can pay it.” 

“Hearts, yes, you want Hearts. A Master of the Bazaar but it will take good care of you.” 

“— I do wish you luck grabbing its attention, however…”

You had came to the Neath for many reasons, but you found yourself drawn to the idea of not being able to die. Surgery could do anything here, if you could come back from it. Sure, there were the little issues of pain and infection, but what is that when you could just… come back? 

You had a very specific surgery you needed and although many others offered their abilities, they all told you to get permission from the Master in charge of meat and flesh first. “It gets first pick.” One had told you. You aren’t sure how you feel about the fact it seems to want to keep the flesh it removes. To sell perhaps? You don’t want to think about it. It’s especially strange when you hear how  _ picky _ Hearts can be. But you suppose that if it turns you down, you have other options.

You’re able to get a letter sent to it without much difficulty and a response arrived much faster than you anticipated. A request for a meeting.

You have heard many things about the Masters of the Bazaar. Intimidating things. They aren’t human, that is for certain, but all else is rumors. You don’t know what to make of it but they each have control over their own markets and when in London, you must play by their rules. 

You are still nervous as you make sure everything is in order as you leave. You double check the address, which is really just the name of a door at the Bazaar. Steel. An attendant greets you and you hand him the seal of Mr Hearts. He nods, opens the door to a lift and ushers you inside. The lift lurches to movement and you feel your stomach jump with it. You shift anxiously as you wait, and then finally, the gate opens. 

You step out, glancing around. The room is warm, various strange appliances strewn around. What could be ovens or other cooking devices. A surgeon's table is in the center, illuminated with a device that lets off the brightest light you have ever seen. There’s a couch to the side of the lift and who you assume is Hearts is working with various bottles you cannot identify. It is a large, hunching figure, like any of the Masters. You never know how to tell them apart.

It turns to you in a sweep of red robes. “Yes, yes, come in, come in!” It chirps excitedly, placing a hand to your leg and ushering you towards the couch. It’s wearing a butchers apron over its robes and you can’t make out any of its facial details past the shadow of its hood. 

You sit down, slightly dazed. “Thank you for seeing me.” You offer nervously. 

Its hood tilts to the side, as if it is examining you. “Oh but of course. I understand you want a… removal?”

You feel your face heat up. You have no idea how much Mr Hearts or any Masters of the Bazaar understand about humans. “Uh, yes. I want my, uh, breast tissue removed. All of it. And resculpted, if you could.”

The bright lights under its hood narrow and you feel it’s smiling. “Top surgery?” It suggests. 

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected it to know such a casual term for it. “Yes.”

“Species with gender binaries can be so  _ restrictive _ ,” it shakes its head as if disappointed. “My kind only has one sex and gender means nothing so it’s not as bad... But London? Always gentlemen this and ladies that. It’s gotten better since we bought it, surely, but — ah, I ramble. Please, undress so I can take a look at the tissue I’ll be removing!”

You nod stiffly, shrugging off your coat and working the buttons of your shirt. Hearts draws a bit closer and you almost think it means to help but it holds itself back. It only stops you when you start to struggle with the bandages you use to bind. 

“Oh, my dear, how long have you been using that method?” It frowns, reaching out to help you. It’s touch is soft, gentle, as it unwinds the bandages. “You should have asked for help sooner. Veils can make special tops. Like corsets, but for the chest. And I—” it stops when it has you exposed, kneeling down to look you over. “Humans can be cruel.” It says softly. 

You have scars across your chest, the tissue injured and bruised from the terrible way you bind. You can’t bring yourself to look at Hearts as it examines you. You are afraid it would scold you or touch you in a way that would make you feel sick, but it does neither. It only touches when it has to. It’s actions aren’t cold and mechanical, but warm in a way like it understands and cares. You can’t relax, but you don’t feel as tense as you thought you would. 

“It will be easy.” Hearts says suddenly, shrugging off its outer robe and placing it over your shoulders to cover you. “You’ll be  _ you _ when I’m done, I promise you that, my dear.”

You didn’t even know you were crying until it puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes softly. 

— 

After, you are staring in the mirror for hours. Your chest flat, the scars minimal. Better and safer than the back alley ones humans do. Hearts told you it had used Amber and a special kind of art you can’t remember the name of. 

Hearts is messing around with jars of what you can only assume is your tissue and fats. It hadn’t wanted payment, only to keep that. You don’t ask why but it assured you it wouldn’t sell it. 

“You can go soon. The herbs should have worn off by now,” it says, glancing back at you.

“Hey,” you whisper and it turns fully to look at you. “Thank you.”

It’s hood is down from the surgery and it smiles brightly. “Veils will make you new tops that fit. Free of charge.”

You ask why. Hearts is quiet for a moment. “I said our kind only has one sex. That’s… a bit of a lie. We have another. Runts. But most don’t want to be runts. I did the same surgery with an old friend.” 

Hearts continues, “Spices has something for the hormones too. I’ll let both it and Veils know you’ll visit them soon. But do try and rest, my dear. Your body needs it.” It slips a bag into your pocket. “Medicine for the pain.” 

The way it says ‘your body’ makes you smile. Yes. This is your body now. Finally.


End file.
